


To Bloom In Darkness

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Series: Strange Hearts & Wild Things [10]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Biting, Claws and Fangs make for an interesting First Time, Extremely Enthusiastic Consent, First Time, First Time Sex, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, Loud Sex, Love Bites, Romance, Smut, Sweet Idiots In Love, TW: Blood, Unsubtle Metaphors/Symbolism, butterfly bog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 16:05:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4841774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of “Once Shattered, Twice Shy”, after baring their shattered hearts and vulnerable souls, after trusting each other so entirely…Marianne and Bog are ready.</p><p>Part 10 to my "Strange Hearts & Wild Things" series, and Part Two to the Three Part Arc that began with "Once Shattered, Twice Shy". YOU WILL HAVE HAD TO HAVE READ THAT TO UNDERSTAND THIS FANFIC. Just so you know!</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Bloom In Darkness

Darkness still reigned in the bedchamber when Marianne woke, blearily blinking eyes that were still stiff with the remnants of tears. It was late, far later then when she had first crashed into the Forest, misery making her clumsy and blind to the evening around her…

She stretched, her spine curving and going as taut as a bow.  It wasn’t surprising she had slept so, considering how she and Bog had talked for so long and the emotional fatigue of that conversation. From the windows, Marianne could see that the violet blue tint of the sky that spoke of twilight had deepened into the inky blue-blackness of true nighttime, the silver of the moon bathing the Forest below in a familiar wash of luminescence. The flower bud she had taken from the Border lay on the ledge of the window, its petals still somewhat closed but velvety and lovely under the moonlight…

Marianne sighed deeply, caught between remaining drowsiness and pure, heartfelt thankfulness. She had been worried that it was closer to dawn, but it appeared to only be around midnight, the night deep and warm and fragrant. It was much cooler than it had been, and she was quite comfortable, with no desire to return to the Fairy Kingdom right now. She wanted to stay here, entwined in the darkness and close to Bog for as long as possible…

_Bog…_

She gently pulled away to look over to where the King of the Dark Forest lay beside her, still lost to deep sleep.

Bog sprawled over the bed, tall and lanky and loose-limbed as only slumber could make him. One long arm still curled toward her from where he had held her to him, cradling her close to comfort her, the gesture an unspoken promise.

_“Don’t leave me –"_

“ _Never._ ”

Marianne studied him silently, her eyes drinking in his face, sleep giving it an openness that never occurred while he was awake. Unfathomable hazel eyes drank in the sight of him - his strong, craggy jaw line, the sharp, lean curve of his nose, his heavy brow shadowing those gorgeous eyes, now closed in sleep, the keen edge of his high cheekbones, the elegant long line of his throat…

Her eyes lingered at his mouth, at those full lips that were such a curious mix of rough and soft, lips she knew so well. They fell open as he breathed, quiet and even, exposing sharp fangs that had marked her countless times in a primal declaration of lust and love, and Marianne felt her heart clench so fiercely she had to inhale, long and slow and deep.

It was strange…she definitely hadn’t thought him handsome, or any kind of attractive, when they first met, that wild night so long ago.

Honestly, she would have wondered at her sanity if she  _had_ , watching him stalk out of the shadows and fog to threaten her family and friends like the beast that the legends had always made him out to be. He had been the terror of the Dark Forest given form, the fierce and merciless and dreaded Bog King, whose lands had so frightened her.

Certainly no one could accuse them of love at first sight. Looming over her, fierce and arrogant in his wrath as she struggled fruitlessly against his goblins, livid at her helplessness, Bog had been scaly and dark, snarling and frightening, his blue eyes glaring at her as he delivered his terms.

He still was those things…but hideous?

_“You’re not hideous.”_

_“Bog, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.”_

She had meant it then, and she meant it now. Prickly and frightening and fierce, shy and awkward and tender, Bog was Bog, the Goblin who had earned her trust and made her dare to love again, all after a single night. Bog was Bog, and -

Marianne glanced back up at him, and drank in the sight of that face, of every single feature. A sigh, tremulous and heartfelt and overwhelmed, was pulled from her heart past her lips.

_\- and she wanted him. With all her heart and soul, **she wanted him.**_

Bog suddenly stirred, sleepily muttering and grimacing, before giving a deep, shuddering sigh and opening his eyes. They squinted drowsily before fixing upon Marianne as she continued to watch him, her gaze intense and fathomless with feeling.

“…Hey,” he finally said, his voice a rough, sleep-thickened murmur. Marianne’s heart gave a queer spasm at the sight of his impossibly blue eyes, tender and warm even as he blinked away sleep, and she found herself unable to reply.

He raised himself a bit from the bed and stretched, before giving his neck the usual crack, groaning softly. He looked at her, and her continued silence finally seemed to register with him. His still groggy expression got slightly more alert with worry, concern. “Are…are you feeling alright? Do…do you need to leave soon?”

She meant to say that though she was still weary from the soul-searching talk they had, the burden of her long buried secret had finally ceased to weigh upon her, so  _yes_ , she was indeed alright.

She meant to say that she didn’t want to go back to her Kingdom, to her father and the aftermath of their confrontation, until the dawn touched the sky, and that was still ages away.

“I love you,” Marianne said.

She hadn’t meant to say that.

Her heart and her gut and her everything clenched in shock, and they both froze, both recognizing that this was the first time she had ever actually said it to him.

Bog’s wide eyes had lost any remaining sleepiness and Marianne’s cheeks flamed scarlet as she looked away frantically. “I –  _um_ \- I mean – like, in case it wasn’t  _obvious_  by now, which –  _uh_ – you know what? We can pretend this is me sleep-talking. We can  _totally_  do that and never mention this again –"

“Marianne –"

“ –or we can say this was a figment of our imaginations, and everything will be–"

 _“Marianne.”_  Claws caught her face and gently tugged it up to look at him, and Marianne stilled as she took in Bog’s expression. There was nervousness, yes, and his eyes had that vulnerable glint, but there was a certainty there that stole her breath away.

Bog’s voice was soft and rough and all for her. “ _I love you too_.”

And now it was Marianne’s turn to stare, wide-eyed and stunned.  _He_ …

Bog took in her wide eyes and frozen face, and he seemed to shrink, eyes darting down, gnawing at his lip. “I – I just –" he looked at her once more and his voice guttered out. He winced and withdrew his hands, his own face getting flushed. “It’s – never mind, you’re right, we’re both too –"

“You love me?” Marianne’s voice was hard to read – both a statement and a question. Her eyes burned queerly in her face as she stared at him, almost merciless.

Bog shrank back a bit, but Marianne caught his wrists, her grip a vise. He looked into her face, clearly about to make another fumbling excuse, about to plead off of any further humiliation, when something in her expression, something that had escaped past the hard, burning desperation, made him stop.

Blue looked into amber, and Bog seemed to soften at the sight of her, his Tough Girl with all her desperately hidden tenderness. “ _With all my heart_ ,” he murmured, his rough voice low and certain. His mouth then quirked in that slant of a smile she so adored. “In case it wasn’t obvio-" 

Marianne’s mouth crushed his, swallowing any further words, and soon it was all Bog could do to keep up with her as she kissed him – no, not kissed him.  _Kissing_  implied gentle affection, sweet and languid. She  _devoured_  him, ravished and explored every inch of his mouth with her lips and teeth and tongue, hot and deep and ravenously greedy as any Goblin, fierce fingers scrabbling at him in want.

Bog groaned thick and helpless into her mouth as Marianne took and gave in equal parts, her tongue stroking at his, her teeth tugging at his lips, opening his mouth further to taste him, claim him,  _all of him_ , she wanted him so  _badly –_

When they finally parted, both of their breaths came in heaving pants, Marianne shaking against him, Bog’s eyes such a beautifully dazed bright blue she was set spinning all over. She clung to him, tried to breath, tried to put into words what he did to her, what he made her feel, but the only ones that could even begin to encompass the sheer depth of  _that_  were -

 _“I love you,”_  she said, her voice a ragged gasp, almost breaking with emotion. “ _I love you,_   _Bog_ , I – I love you  _so much_ –"

Bog gazed up at her as though she couldn’t be real, as if she was a magic far more beautiful and dangerous than any Potion. When he whispered her name, it was like a spell. “ _Marianne_ –"

Overwhelmed and at a loss for any other words, Marianne sank back into the certainty of action, kissing him as though it was the only thing keeping him there, hard and fierce and hungry, hooking desperate fingers at his scalp while her other hand clawed at his back, tugging him as close as he could get, and  _yup_ , okay, she was  _definitely_  straddling him, that was  _totally_ happening –

Their wings were going nuts, his twitching and thrumming like mad, hers shivering and fluttering as if caught in their own personal storm, and maybe they were, her emotions raged within her so. She was caught in tempest of lust and desire and want and  _oh god, Bog, **I want you** , I  **need**  you, I_ –

 _“I love you,”_  she whispered against his ear before she nipped at it and trailed sucking kisses down his neck, Bog letting out an absolutely pathetic moan, his claws scrabbling at her sides.

 _“I love you,”_  she groaned between clenched teeth as his claws dragged down  _hard_  between her wings, her head lolling in rapturous surrender, panting as his mouth bit at her throat, marking the elegant, smooth slope of her neck, his fangs a sweet, sharp contrast to his soft tongue as it laved across the skin there, thoroughly tasting her.

 _“I love you,”_  she murmured against his lips when she sat back up, brushing her face against his, before claiming his mouth once more in a desperate kiss, dominant and pleading, and oh god,  _it still wasn’t enough_ , she still had to tell him – “Oh god, Bog, you have  _no_  idea –  _I love you_ , I love you  _so damn much_  –"

Bog bit at her lip, tugging at it, and she gasped as the sweet pain lanced through her, and oh  _god_ , between his lips and his fangs and his hands, he knew just what to do to make her weak with want, dewy with desire, absolutely pliant with pleasure  -

 _“Ah love ye,”_  he growled against her mouth, and Marianne wilted in his arms, shivering like a leaf. Between those words and his thickened accent -  _Oh god, **oh god**_ , she had thought she had been wretched with want and love  _before_ –

Bog continued, hoarse and desperate.“Ah love ye  _sae bludy much,_  gods,  _Marianne_ , ye’re –"Bog’s voice stuttered as she wrangled herself closer to him, sliding and grinding against him, and when he spoke again, it was so beautifully broken, so gorgeously wreaked.  _“Oh gods, Tough Girl, ye’re everythin’ –"_

That last word was almost a sob, and Marianne smothered it with her lips, her kisses fervent and hot and  _everywhere_ , the curve of his nose, the sharp edge of his cheek, the strong line of his jaw, the slant of his ear, the hitch in his throat, everywhere she could get. Nothing was neglected, she wanted to lavish love on every inch of him, show him,  _oh Bog please_  –

Both preferred action over words, greedy hands over stumbling sentences, but now they  _couldn’t freaking shut up_ , consumed with the desire to make up for every missed opportunity to say this, every forsaken chance. Murmurs and moans tumbled over each other, chasing after each other between ragged, panting breaths and deep kisses, desperate and hungry and heartfelt –

-  _I love you, oh gods Ah love ye, I love you so much, ye’re everythin’ ta me, you’re amazing incredible wonderful, ye’re so bludy perfect, never wanna stop touching you, never want ta stop tastin’ ye, oh **god** Bog, oh  **hells** Tough Girl,  **please please please**_  - 

Marianne tore her mouth away to breath, her whole body shuddering so hard, and Bog was  _not_  helping in any way at all, what with how he was desperately clasping her to him, not at all objecting to how her body pinned his to the moss. She tried to focus, she really  _really_ did. “Bog, I –"

Bog struck like a snake, snagging her ear, biting it with a lust-thickened growl.

Marianne moaned, her eyes fluttering closed and her wings giving twitchy little shivers as his tongue stroked the curve of it. Somehow she managed to lean away, ignoring the hot pulsing ache in her groin.  _Soon though, soon soon soon, oh **please**_ -  “Bog, wait,  _please_  – I need to –"

Bog nipped at her neck, and Marianne pushed him away as gently as she could. He collapsed against the bed with an unceremonious  _thump_ , his fangs bared, his eyes blazing bright and blue with want. God, he looked so ravenously  _feral,_  so deliciously  _wild,_  and yet here he was, letting her manhandle him –

 _“Wha’_  –" Bog managed to get out, his breath coming in hard, hot pants, words ragged, “ –  _wha’ is it?”_

Marianne tried to calm down, her heart now racing for reasons entirely different from all consuming lust. But – oh,  _she wanted him_ , and she was certain he wanted her, and – it just felt  _right_ , she had to take that risk,  _she had to_ , there was a bravery to vulnerability and she wanted to be vulnerable with him,  _only with him_  –

She had never loved anyone more. She had never trusted anyone more.

She had never been more willing to take this chance.

_And if he says no…_

Marianne closed her eyes at the sharp pain that thought brought her, and breathed in and out, slow and steady even as her heart thundered and her pulse fluttered. She could do this. There were some things worth the risk, worth every danger.

She loved him,  _all_  of him.

And now…she was ready.  _C’mon, Tough Girl_.

Marianne opened her eyes and gazed down at him, the brilliant hazel bright and deep with emotion as she took him in, his expression still hungry but now confused and concerned. “Bog…I love you.”

Immediately his eyes grew so impossibly tender Marianne wanted to weep, and he reached a claw for her.  _“Ah love ye too_ …”

But she wasn’t done.

Marianne grabbed his hand with one of hers, while her other gently held him to the bed, fingers splaying across his chest, right over his heart, his pulse fierce under her palm. She breathed in deep before continuing, her own heart in her throat. 

“I love you. And…I want you.” She breathed in once more, cheeks flushing but her eyes glowing in the darkness with certainty, and one of her hands passed down his chest, fingers trailing over his scales, at once tender and tentative and claiming. “ _All_  of you.”

Bog’s eyes widened, and his long, slow gulp was clearly heard in the chamber.

“It’s just -” Marianne said, sitting back up, combing her fingers through her hair in would-be-casual gesture and trying to reign in the high, nervous edge that had snuck into her voice. She cleared her throat and looked away from Bog’s still wide gaze, biting her lip before continuing. “I think – I know I’m – I -"  _Oh god oh god oh god…_

She stopped and sighed roughly, frustrated, before trying again. “I’m…I’m ready. For this. And after tonight, after  _everything_ , it just…feels right? And yeah,  _okay,_  I guess I always thought it would end up being one of those  _heat of the moment_  kind of things, but I think this is might be better –“ 

_–rambling, she was totally rambling–_

“and – and I  _know_  I’m not the only one in this, I don’t want to - this is  _not_  just about me, Bog, I swear that I would  _never_ want to push you or anything like that, but I just,  _I want you_  and I’m  _ready_ and if you feel the same -” Marianne stopped and sighed. “Oh my god, seriously Bog,  _blink.”_

“Hard to do,” Bog managed to get out, his voice strained.

Marianne scrambled off of him, her cheeks flushing and her wings giving a tiny, nervous flutters. “Bog, I swear, I would never try to – please, I didn’t mean to come on too strong, I  _swear_ I wouldn’t try to  _force_  you or –"

“I know that,” Bog assured, sitting up, his voice sincere even if shock was still the predominant emotion on his face. He breathed in deeply, and his claws  _clacked_  together nervously as he ran a hand over his scalp. “I – I just –"

Marianne sat back and bit her lip, her eyes wide and gleaming with trepidation, her heart racing painfully. “Do…would you…would you  _want_ to?”

Bog immediately flushed, a war of emotions crossing his face as he struggled to reply.

Marianne’s heart stopped racing in favor of turning into lead.  _Oh._

 _But she had meant it._  If he wasn’t ready, then she wouldn’t –

Her voice was still traitorously thick when she spoke. “ _It’s okay_  –"

“ _No no no_ , Marianne,  _wait_ , please wait –“ Bog grabbed her, his claws unchecked in his desperation, his voice frantic. “I didn’t mean to – I wasn’t going to say –"

Marianne looked at him, torn between misery and confusion.  _“Then what -?_ Bog,  _please_ , I wanna know for sure if you –"

 _“Ah do,”_  Bog said, and his sincerity was so great it almost verged on distraught. “ _Gods_ , Tough Girl,  _Ah want ye sae bludy bad_  – ye have  _nae_ idea just how –"

His voice broke, and Marianne’s hear was racing all over again, her blood heating and quickening in her veins at the sound of his thickened accent, such a tell tale sign of his desire. “ _Then tell me why_  –"

“Ah want ye.” Claws traced over her face, sharp and curving and gentle, light as the trail of dew. “But…Ah would nae have ye think tha’ ye  _need_  ta dae this.”

Marianne blinked at him, baffled.  _“That I need to…?”_

Bog exhaled roughly, looking torn between great discomfort and determination. “Marianne…earlier…ye told me something that was incredibly –  _intimate_  – for ye, and– and now ye’re saying that ye  _want_ this, but - ” Bog stopped again, looking frustrated, before continuing on, his voice low and fast. “Marianne,  _I love ye,_  I  _do_ , but – I just don’t want ye to do this when ye’re  _vulnerable_  and have ye end up regretting –"

 _“I would never regret you,”_  Marianne said fiercely, almost a snarl.  

 _“Ye say tha’ now, ”_  Bog countered, and a flash of self-loathing crossed his face.

Marianne growled and seized him, capturing his mouth, determined to chase such a look away with some serious kissing. Damn his insecurity, she  _hated_  how deep its roots went, even after everything -

When she released him, Bog looked like he had taken a blow to the head from a cask of goblin ale and then finished off its contents, he was so dazed. Nonetheless, he managed to continue on, a feat which Marianne would have found deeply impressive if she hadn’t been so impatiently hot for him. “A-Ah don’ want ye to think tha’ ye… _owe_  me this, love. Tha’…tha’ ye  _need_  ta do this because ye shared something so –"

Marianne put a finger to his lips, her heart thudding with a desperate mix of gratitude and love. “ _I told you that because I wanted to_ ,” she said, low and fierce and unwavering.  _“Because I trust you_. I want  _this_  for the same reasons. BecauseI  _can_  be vulnerable with you.” Marianne melted a bit, her shoulders slumping as she cradled his face. “Bog,  _I want you._  I  _love_ you. I’m ready.”

Bog stared at her, and love and want and crippling doubt raged in his eyes. “…Marianne,  _how_  can  _I_  be what you want? I just don’t -”

“Okay, I’m obviously not being clear enough,” Marianne said, pushing him back to the bed and swinging a leg over him, straddling him once more. “Let me try this.”

Her fingers went to her tunic, working at ties, deft and swift and sure. In the span of only a few heartbeats, she had it off and flung it over her shoulder.

Bog’s eyes got huge as he took her in, her skin smooth and silver in the glow of the moon, shadows clinging to her small, shapely breasts, tracing the hollow of her collarbone and shading the hard plane of her stomach. Caught between the wash of light and dark, Marianne was almost black and white. But her eyes were amber fire, and her wings shimmered as they flowed behind her, purple and iridescent.

Marianne would have been extremely gratified by Bog’s almost pained exhale of awe, but she wasn’t about to be distracted. “You keep forgetting - ” she murmured, sitting back a bit, and  _okay,_  her rump was definitely rubbing against his –

Bog gave a whine and she continued on, undeterred. “-That I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.” She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow, studiously ignoring how the motion pushed her breasts up.  _“Right?”_

Bog was still very preoccupied between drinking in the curve of moonlight and shadow on her breasts and trying to keep his hips from rocking up against her, but managed to realize he was supposed to say something. “R-right…”

“And I  _know_ what I want _.”_  Marianne uncrossed her arms to brace her hands above Bog’s head, her fingers long and pale against the dark moss as she leaned over him, her eyes not leaving his. The amber of her gaze was molten and pure, searing him with the truth in their depths. “ _I want you_.”

His exoskeleton was as scaly and sharp and crackly as they came, but Marianne had never seen anyone melt as Bog did in that moment, his breath gusting out of him in a long, ragged exhale as he stared up at her, helplessly taking her in.

Marianne softened, and she couldn’t help the slight insecurity that crept into her voice. “…Do you want me?”

_Do you want to do this?_

His voice was a hoarse whisper of heartrending honesty.  _“More than anythin’.”_

Marianne’s heart gave a glad little twist of love and happiness and excitement, and a smile stole across her lips, giddy and breathless.  _Okay_. Okay, they were – this was happening –

She leaned down right as he leaned up, their kiss sweeping over them. They quickly drowned in it, hot and hungry and open-mouthed, groans and sighs and growls caught between them. Marianne frantically grabbed at his hands, and Bog immediately knew what she was after and quickly obliged, one spanning her slim and strong torso while the other one palmed a breast, the friction of his rough hide mind-meltingly exquisite as he stroked her, slow and sweet.

Marianne moaned unabashedly, her head lolling back at the sensation, and Bog let his ministrations get rough and hungry, his eyes sinking closed and his mouth latching onto her throat as his fingers kneaded and caressed, tugged and teased –

A claw drew across the plush softness and Marianne let out a mew, pleasure and pain mixing. Bog immediately leaned back, drawing his hand away, the glint of guilt and fear replacing glazed desire. “ _Ah’m sorry_  –"

“It’s okay, you’re alright…” Marianne soothed, drawing his hand back to her.

Bog still pulled away, and his face had gone past worried into tense. “Marianne, if we do this –"

_“If?!”_

“ –  _Ah don’t want to hurt ye.”_

Marianne rolled her eyes. “ _You won’t.”_  Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten her with his claws before, nipped a bit too hard with his teeth. He had never  _truly_  hurt her, and she was sure he wouldn’t now. She wriggled closer to him in an attempt to both comfort him and as a means to stoke his fire. “Bog, I told you, I don’t mind rough-“

-  _And while she still couldn’t say so outright, sometimes the line between pleasure and pain was a thin one indeed, and she was starting to wonder if for all the decorum her father had tried to instill in her, she had a taste for it_ -

His hands came up between them, not to grab her, but hold her back. Blue eyes almost glared up at her, he was so serious. “There’s a difference between  _rough_  and  _hurting you_ , Marianne. The last thing I want is to –"

Marianne leaned across the space between them and kissed him, tender and true. “I  _know_ that,” she promised, her voice sincere if still slightly gaspy. “I  _do_ , and I love that you want to keep me safe, but Bog, I  _know_  you won’t hurt me –"

 _“I don’t want to.”_  Claws tightened at her shoulders.  _“But I might.”_  As if to punctuate the gravity of his statement, his talons pricked into her skin. The tiniest seeds of blood bloomed up, ruby-bright against her white flesh.

His voice was low and desperate.  _“I would die before I hurt you, Tough Girl.”_

Marianne bit her lip, not in pain but in thought as she eyed Bog, a furl of love curling through her at the pained earnestness in his words. “What…what would help? Is there something I can do?”

His claws gripped her even tighter, and his gaze was fierce. “Swear to me that if I hurt you,  _you’ll tell me.”_

Marianne sighed. “And if I do…?”

“Then I’ll stop.”

Marianne groaned. “I don’t  _want_  you to stop!”

“Your safety matters more.” Bog’s voice was firm and unyielding, a King giving a command. “Marianne,  _promise me.”_

Marianne writhed in his lap, already impatient. “ _Fine_ , now –"

His eyes blazed at her, and his voice got harsh with desperation.  ** _“Promise me, Marianne.”_**

She stopped and sighed, her shoulders slumping. It wasn’t fair of her to be so cavalier when she had made him swear such an oath to her earlier. She lifted her head so he could see her face, her expression serious and sincere. “ _I promise_. I know you never would, but I promise…if it gets too much, I’ll let you know.”

Bog searched her face, and then nodded, slow and careful. “That’s all I ask…”

Marianne’s nod back was quick and business-like. “ _Good.”_  She then yanked on the collar of his exoskeleton, pulling him tight to her. Her lips were soft and sweet like the darkest rose petals as they brushed over his before twisting into a wicked grin. “Now shut up and kiss me,  _almighty Bog King_.”

Any lingering furrows of concern disappeared from his brow, and Bog smirked up at her dangerously, claws snaking down her back. “Bossy wee thing ye are, ta order a King about –"

“You are  _so_  turned on by my bossiness and don’t you even deny it,” Marianne murmured hotly against his mouth, leaning into the gorgeously heavy drag of his hand as he slid it down and over the small of her back, pressing her close.

 _“Lies an’ slander,”_  Bog muttered, the thickness of his voice the ultimate betrayal, and Marianne let out a little wanton moan of encouragement as his head dropped back down to her chest. He gave her a nuzzle before returning to his previous preoccupation of sucking and kissing and nipping his way along her chest, and she shivered at the feel of his soft mouth and thorny jaw brushing against her. He began with her slender throat, then the fine line of her collarbone, before proceeding to her sternum. When he finally reached his ultimate destination, his mouth was hot with hungry devotion, lavishing attention on her tender breasts, lush and sensitive as buds.

Marianne’s moan poured out of her, a ballad of want in contrast to the rough sounds of ravenous worship Bog was making, muffled and moaning, his mouth greedy on her skin. Writhing against him, soft and grinding, Marianne arched hard when he slid a hand over the curve of her ass and gasped in shocked delight as he unabashedly squeezed it, gripping her to him with a low, rich growl of encouragement. Her appreciative purr almost slid into a giggle.  _First my breasts, now my ass. Guess he really has grown to appreciate Fairy anatomy._

Her good humor melted right back into hazy desire when Bog moved against her, purposeful and passionate. Marianne’s mouth fell open in a soundless gasp, and her brow furrowed as she rocked back against him, the hard, sensual roll of her hips merciless. The noise Bog made was a cross between a growl and a groan, his fangs scrapping against velvety, petal-pliant skin before his tongue laved after them, the hot and wet roughness an intoxicating follow-up to the sweet sting.

Marianne’s resulting moan was so immodest she would have blushed if she hadn’t been pushed beyond the point of caring by Bog’s touch, the incredible feel of his teeth and his tongue and his deliciously rough fingers, wickedly strong and clever and coaxing –

Said fingers gave a particularly deft caress, soon followed by his tongue, and Marianne arched so hard her head spun.  _Ooooh **yes,** oh  **god** yes yes yes!_

She pulled him into a kiss, and he eagerly met her hunger with this own, his growl fierce and possessive. As much as Marianne adored Bog’s shy, sweet hesitancy, when he got so  _dominant_  and unabashed in what he wanted, so  _blatant_  in what turned him on – oh  _god,_  it made her  _so damn hot,_  so achingly moist, made her core throb to the point of misery –

_Actually, on that note –_

Marianne’s hands dragged away from where they had been lovingly scratching and stroking at Bog’s back, sending his wings into deliciously twitchy little shivers, down to where she was beginning to ache and burn in such delicious frustration that the simple brush of her fingers at the laces of her pants had her biting a lip against a whine, teeth fierce.

Bog gave a snarl that was more pain than want, and  _oops_ , that had been  _his_ lip. Marianne gave it a soft tender pass of her tongue in apology, trying to concentrate -

But her fingers, as clever as they had been with her top, were fumbling now, and she wasn’t about to try and decided if it was desire or nerves that was making them so thick and clumsy –

Screw it, she needed claws.

She leaned back from the kiss, her lips burning, shaking her hair out of the way and giving a sigh rich with frustration and impatience and want. “Baby, I’m sorry, can you –" She stopped, her eyes widening.  _“Oh my god.”_   

He hastily pushed himself back and ducked his head a bit.  _“What?”_  Judging by how his cheeks were already flushed, he knew damn well what had caught her attention.

Marianne’s voice was filled with incredulous glee.  _“I made your eyes cross?”_

 _“No!”_  Bog’s voice was defiant, verging on petulant, but his cheeks burned and his shoulders went into their tell-tale hunch of embarrassment. His blue eyes, now decidedly uncrossed, darted away from her gaze.  _Oh my god, Bog, could you be more obvious?_

Marianne tried to bite back her laughter, but a delighted, heated chuckle escaped nonetheless. She grinned at him teasingly. “You  _dork_. That’s - that’s actually  _super_  flattering, seriously, I can’t believe I did  _that_  to you–"

 _“If ye’re gonna mock –"_  Bog said, a slight snarl coming into his voice, and he went to disentangle himself from her.

Marianne immediately kissed him, soothing and slow and sweet, her tongue curling at his. Bog gave a soft, muffled groan, and she pulled back a bit to nuzzle his nose. “Who said anything about  _mocking?”_  Marianne enquired, her smile now having a tender sincerity to it. “I just told you it was super flattering.” 

He still looked a bit burned, so she pet his neck, fingers soft and stroking. Bog tilted his head back to allow her further excess, and Marianne rained kisses down it, making him give a soft growl of pleasure. “I _like_  knowing I can do that to you. You think you’re the only one who gets insecure?” She murmured, her admission hot and soft and secret against his skin.

“Ye needn’t.” Bog’s hands tightened on her. “Ye have nae idea what ye dae ta me, Tough Girl.”

Marianne smiled, sweet and dangerous, knowing he could feel her against him. “Think I got  _some_  idea,” she replied archly, then licked a hot path up his neck to his ear, dragging and slow and wicked.  _Oh, the **taste**  of him -_

Bog gave a convulsive shudder beneath her, jolting up, and of  _course_ his thigh managed to rub her right on her sweet spot, making her inhale hard and fast and her hips jerk uncontrollably.  _Oh sweet skies -_

Bog groaned before looking at her, concern overriding desire.  _“Wha’ is it -?”_

 _“I-"_ Marianne panted, and oh  _god_ , she could feel how bad it was, her groin burning and the crotch of her pants damp. Her clit was sending out such a steady and needy and pulsing demand for  _more more more, now now now_ , it was almost painful. “ –I, uh…I need some help.” She gestured to her trousers gracelessly. “Um, the laces? I can’t get them, my fingers decided to be all stupid –" 

Bog cocked his head, the glint in his eye coming from both desire and curiosity. By now he had seen her with her top off numerous times, and her bare legs whenever she chose to wear a nightgown instead of her pants to bed, but this…

Marianne flushed under his eyes as they traveled along her legs, and she discreetly tried to hide how she pressed them together to ease her ache. Bog sat up a bit more, and before Marianne knew it, he had reached out a hand, those long, gnarled fingers spanning the width and curve of her thigh easily. Marianne shivered and edged closer to him as he slowly stroked up and down, and she felt an odd sense of relief when she saw the little gulp he gave.

It wasn’t like he was  _unfamiliar_ with her clothing, but still…this was…this was something  _new,_  something that no matter how they ached and burned with want, they had to prepare themselves for.  

_This is big. It’s okay to be nervous._

But her nerves didn’t stop her desire - her heat was reaching a fever-pitch, and down there…well, she just couldn’t  _ignore_  it any more. Riding up on his leg and rocking against him was one thing - what she  _needed_  now was contact and attention and sweet, heady relief. And after countless nights with only the familiarity of her fingers to help ease her desire, Marianne needed and wanted Bog’s touch and Bog’s touch alone.

She scrambled back a bit and impatiently kicked off her boots, and they fell from the bed with two soft thumps. She struggled to breathe as she got up on her knees, Bog’s hands dropping to drift over the backs of her thighs, and her hands fell to the front of her pants, and the simple brush of contact made that impatient little bud give a wickedly fierce ache -

Marianne bit back a curse, teeth gritting. Yeah, okay, pants were coming off, pants had to come off  _now_ –

She fumbled once more and swore, before giving Bog a heated, pleading look. “See? They’re useless, I don’t know why –"

Claws went to undo them, before halting, hovering over her own fingers as Bog gave her a searching look, so damn earnest. “Marianne, I swear, if you want to stop –"

 _“I want this,”_  Marianne said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not freaking  _stalling_ , the laces just decided to be all knotty and difficult, you just need to –“ noticing that his hand was still not reaching for her, Marianne gave an annoyed exhale and grabbed it, pulling it towards her. Bog started, but Marianne merely used the claw of his index finger to snag the first lace. The look she fixed him with was both exasperated and tender. “Bog, I know you’ll listen to me. If I want to stop, I’ll let you know. Now,  _please_  -”

Bog looked like he wanted to say something else when Marianne gave a soft rock of her hips, bumping her crotch against his hand, and he gave a sharp gasp.

Marianne bit her lip and gave him a tiny grin, her gut all fluttery from want and nerves. “Give a girl a hand?”

The joke was so lame she wouldn’t have blamed Bog at all if he had groaned in disgust. But instead it was her turn to gasp, high and ragged, when Bog  _sliced_  through her laces with one swipe, leaving them to dangle free. The front of her trousers parted just the tiniest bit open, the air cool on her skin.

Marianne gave a throaty chuckle. “Good thing you didn’t tear them completely, I still have to wear –"

Gnarled fingers encircled her upper arm and she was suddenly yanked to him, Bog pulling her up into a kiss that was so gloriously ferocious that Marianne  _had_  to whimper. She fumbled between groping at his neck to pull him closer to deepen the kiss and tugging at her pants. But Bog was driving her to complete and utter distraction - he just felt so _amazing_ , tasted so damn _incredible_ , a wild purity to his kiss that made her dazedly think of moss and moonlight and nighttime wind chasing over her wings –

She pulled back, disentangling her hands and panting as her heart raced. Her fingers skittered to her pants, now looser without the laces, all too easy to pull down,  _so easy, **so**  very easy and oh,  **oh god** , this was happening. _Even if she wanted it, this was  _nerve-wracking_ , and she couldn’t stop her trembling, her wings rustling like the Fields in a breeze, uncontrollable –

Bog’s hands stroked down her arms comfortingly, and she immediately latched onto them, guiding them to the waist of her pants. His claws brushed across where soft fabric met even softer skin, and he let out a low noise of want and nervousness. Marianne’s heart gave a little throb of sympathy and gratitude as she looked up at him, taking in his wide eyes and anxious swallow.  _He was just as nervous as her, she wasn’t alone, they could do this, together…_

She gently placed her hands on his, fingers tracing over his knuckles to softly draw his rough palms flat against her. Bog let her control him, watching her hands, his expression somewhere between disbelief and desire. His breath hitched when she suddenly slid his fingers under the top of her trousers, just the tiniest bit. The fabric caught slightly on his rough knuckles, and Bog gave another nervous gulp. Marianne brushed her cheek along his, soft and comforting.  _It’s okay, baby, you’re okay._

“Help me?” She breathed, her voice soft and sincere.

A slight shiver went over Bog, but he nodded, and Marianne kissed his nose before leaning back for better access. Her hands still on his, they began to pull the garment down, the soft chafe of the fabric making her bite her lip as it peeled away from her, as easily as a husk from a bud…

As soon as the cool air hit her skin -  _skin so pale it glowed in the darkness, soft and unseen by anyone before_ \- Marianne leaned her head against his chest, throat tight and heart pounding a hard, fast beat, overwhelmed. She could feel Bog’s heartbeat underneath her cheek, the reverberations of it echoing through her. She closed her eyes, sinking into the rhythm.  _Oh god…_

Bog reached her knees and gave a small grunt of confusion and distress, and Marianne gave a breathless little laugh before reaching down to help him, her touch shy and sweet. She gave a slight wriggle, and then the bunched fabric was sliding past her knees and down her calves and suddenly –

Her pants pooled at her feet, hooking at a toe, and she had to give a little awkward kick to get them off, and then –

And then she was completely bare, utterly exposed before him.

Her heart clenched and she breathed in deep, suddenly struck by the enormity of the moment - she had  _never_  been so exposed in front of  _anyone_ ,  _oh **god** ,  **he could see everything**  _–

Marianne forced herself not to hunch over, breathing as deep and steady as she could. She determinedly put her shoulders back, even as her nerves tingled and crawled over her, threading down her fingers to make them tremble. Her chest rose and fell as her heart twisted within her breast, and her eyes hesitantly slid over to look at him before darting away, the hazel of them gleaming with want and trepidation.  _Please, **please**  don’t think this is too strange;  **please**  don’t think I’m too_-

Bog’s ragged, heart-felt exhale distracted Marianne from her frantic thoughts, and her heart stuttered at she took him in.

_The way he was looking at her…_

Bog’s eyes were rapt and entranced, drinking her in as though she was some indescribable and untouchable magic, spellbinding in her natural state. He looked at her as if each inch of skin and curve of limb was something sacred, his gaze a form of worship as it traced over her body, following the path of her curves and lines like they were the only journey he would ever want to take, the only adventure he could ever want to have…

Marianne felt her heart contract fiercely as love, fierce and consuming, washed over her, making her tremble.  _God_ , when he looked at her like that, it was so  _easy_  to believe she was beautiful…

Bog exhaled and shook his head slowly, as though trying to reconcile that  _this was real,_ that _she_  was real and she wanted to give all of herself,  _all of this_ , to him. His gaze dropped, following the arch of her feet, running along the slim, muscular lines of her calves, tracing up the soft curve of her thighs, and the bright blue got glazed and hazy.

His voice was soft and ragged, filled with pained wonderment, thick with desire. “ _Gods,_   _Marianne, ye’re…ye’re so –"_

His eyes reached the juncture of her legs and widened.  _“ **Ye’ve got hair there too?!”**_

Marianne’s head dropped back, the noise she made somewhere between a groan and a laugh.  _“Oh. My. God. Bog, you absolute freaking –"_

“Tha’s  _incredible,”_  Bog murmured, paying her no heed as he edged closer, utterly fascinated, his claws twitching as though they were coming alive with curious hunger –

Marianne flushed and tucked a lock behind an ear, the gesture a flimsy and fluttery excuse to get some jittery energy out. “It’s just hair –"

 _“It’s ye,”_  Bog said, moving closer to her, and her breath caught in her throat at his rough tones, fathomless with aching sincerity and desire. “There’s nothin’  _just_  about ye, Tough Girl –"

Marianne blushed from head to toe, warm pleasure zipping down her wings, making them shiver. And heaven help her, that heat went  _deep_. She felt her core grow even more hot, smoldering and moist with, a fact made even more undeniable what with how the soft coolness of the night was now brushing against  _all_ of her –

She smiled bashfully but couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her as she reached for him. “God, it’s honestly amazing how smooth you can get -”  

Bog flushed, looking both faintly embarrassed and rather proud. “Ah don’  _try_  ta –"

“That’s what makes it so great…” Marianne murmured, grabbing his claws to wind them around her waist, and Bog quickly obliged, drawing her near and tilting her head back to press hot, scraping kisses at her throat. She moaned and shivered delightedly at the feel of his rough hide brushing the skin of her waist and backside, claws pricking at new territory for him to stake his passionate claim.

The contrast of that intoxicating friction with the silken brush of her wings was exquisite, and Marianne pressed herself to him eagerly, catching his mouth. Bog seemed to enjoy such new sensations as well, making low, throaty sounds of pleasure, which caught between their mouths.

They sank into the ravenous kiss, clutching at each other, passionate and fumbling and groping, desperate to get their hands on every inch of the other. Bog tugged her up to him to deepen the kiss, and when Marianne drew against him, her little thatch of curls brushed right against his thigh, their damp muskiness sliding absolutely  _perfectly_  over his scaly segments, grazing her right on her –

Marianne let out a sharp cry of pleasure, her eyes squeezing shut.  _“Oh **fuck** yes.”_   

Bog drew back, and Marianne let out a little moan of displeasure when she saw the worry return to his eyes. “Bog,  _no!_   _Please don’t_ , I wasn’t – that wasn’t me –" She stopped and gave a rough exhale, her shoulders slumping a bit and her eyes pleading. “Bog,  _seriously,_  you don’t have to keep worrying about me-"

“Someone’s got ta, ye mad wench,” Bog retorted, even as his claws returned to her sides, tracing up and down the narrow lines of her ribcage, gentle and maddening.

“You made me swear to tell you if I got hurt,” Marianne gritted out, trying to hook a leg around him, but Bog leaned away from her, still looking grim with determination and worry. The look she threw him burned with both want and annoyance. “I did, because I  _know_  you’ll listen. But you need to listen to me  _now_ –  ** _I want you_**.”   

And dammit, it was the truth, she wanted him here and  ** _now_** , no more waiting. She wanted to pin him against the moss and be pinned, wanted darkness and moonlight to wash over their twining bodies, have their wings go wild, fingers and claws grip and bruise, mouths be hungry and hot and claiming –

Her heart was racing and yes, she was still a bit nervous, but her certainty was as strong as ever. She  _knew_ what she wanted and she wanted  _him_ , this King who was so eager to surrender as she conquered him in passion, this Goblin who made her feel beautiful and wanted and powerful, saw her differences as desirable –

_Oh god, Bog, I **want**  you, I’m  **so**  ready for you._

But a sudden thought crossed her mind, a cold dart through the hot haze of her desire.  _Is **he**  ready?_

The thought stilled her, and Marianne stopped her desperate attempts to get closer to him, her eyes losing some of the haze of smoldering want to worry. It  _would_  be just like him to try some supposedly subtle way of suggesting they stop…

Marianne’s heart gave a hard little thud, but she set her jaw in determination. If he wasn’t ready, then she wouldn’t –

_But she had to know for sure -_

Marianne looked up at him, her eyes wide and searching, trying to ignore how her body still called for him. “Bog…do _you_  wantto stop? I promise it’s okay if you’re not ready…”

He gaped at her. “ _What?_  Gods, Marianne, tha’s nae it at all! This is about  _ye,_ Ah jus’ don’t want ye ta feel –"

“This is  _not_  just about me,” Marianne retorted, poking a finger at his chest. “This is about _us_. Bog…” she looked up into his beautiful eyes and sighed, softening. “I want you, and I’m ready, but I meant what I said earlier. I would  _never_  want to push you if this is too much –"

_If I’m too much –_

_“Ye’re nae pushin’ me.”_  Bog’s voice was an unyielding growl, and his hands gripped her even closer. Marianne found herself torn between focusing on his sheer earnestness and trying to keep back a little mewl of pleasure as her body slid against his.  _Ooooh_ , she had thought his scales were torturously pleasurable on her breasts, but  _god_ , on her inner thighs, _that_  was truly -  

Bog continued, low and earnest, his eyes so achingly blue and concerned. “This is  _nae_  too much, an’ –  _gods,_  Tough Girl, how can ye even  _think_  Ah don’t want ye, tha’ I’m nae ready –"

Marianne nuzzled up close to him, eyes dropping down even as her heart fluttered. “You keep stopping –"

“Because Ah want ta make sure ye’re alright!”

“ _I’m fine.”_  Marianne seized his chin, the prickles catching at her hand, and tugged him down to glare at him commandingly. “Bog, I trust you.  _Now trust me_. You don’t have to keep worrying. If I want you to stop, I’ll say so.” She grinned a bit and brushed a soft kiss to his mouth before moving up to nuzzle at an ear. “Besides, you know how freaking noisy I get. Me moaning is a  _good_  thing…” She breathed, before mouthing at his ear in a way that was frankly filthy. She felt a fierce, sweet rush of vindication at Bog’s dazed moan, his back bowing hard so his head could sink onto her shoulder helplessly.

Feeling she had made her point, Marianne wrested him into another kiss, deep and soulful and sweet, before breaking away to tilt her head back, exposing her throat like a willing sacrifice, even as her fingers clawed him closer. A sudden memory flashed through her, her sword to a smooth, golden throat as she snarled out a question that was more of a boast.  ** _“Who’s_** _the beast?”_

Marianne gave a chuckle that frayed into a moan as Bog began to lavish his attention on her neck, nipping at her jugular.  _Both of them, apparently._

And if that were so, then she might as well live up to the name, right? She was just as wild as Bog was, and it was about time he remembered that so there would be no more hesitation, no more being held back by doubt or misguided concern. She could take care of herself, though now it was a matter of them taking care of each other…

_Enough contemplation, more mind-melting caresses and kisses._

Feeling her inner voice had a point, Marianne let out a purr of a moan when she felt Bog’s teeth catch at her pulse point, sinking into the flesh she had happily bared for him, a predator playing at prey. Bog gave a deep-throated growl back, and she could have sworn his wings flared, his pleasure at her own uninhibited rapture so great, practically purring against her skin as he made his way along the slender column. Marianne closed her eyes at the feel of it, thrumming through her nerves like a bushfire.  _Oh **god** , if he ever did that against her –_

Marianne whimpered, just the merest hint of that thought making her core grow even slicker with desire and her clit throb.  _God,_  she needed some relief,  _right here, right now -_

But even as her body shook with want, Marianne bit her lip, a small twist of nervousness going through her. Bog hadn’t yet touched her below the waist, not with his hands at least, preferring the comfort of the familiar and known and always so nervous about going too far.

But…maybe…if he saw her…

Her cheeks flamed and her ears got hot, and Marianne grit her teeth in determination to feel no shame, as well as to stop the moan Bog was causing what with his decision to start sucking and nipping at her ears. She  _wasn’t_ ashamed,  _she was not_  - she had touched herself plenty of times before, had worked hard to gain that comfort and familiarity with her body, experiment with what she liked. Proper girls weren’t supposed to - never mind the scandal of a  _princess_  doing it – but then, Marianne had never been big on propriety. Besides, just because she had given up on Love for a while hadn’t meant she had to deny her body…

But…touching herself…like _that_ …in front of  _Bog,_  of all people…!

_Like you would ever do it in front of anyone else but him._

Marianne groaned, and Bog echoed it, albeit for different reasons, continuing to trail ravenous open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. His breath gusted hot and thick over her now dewy skin, and Marianne writhed under a slow swipe of his tongue, torn between pleasure and her conflicted emotions. She absent-mindedly noted that she was damp with perspiration, what with how their passion had heated everything up. The room was musky and sultry with the scent of both their desires, so thick in the air she could almost taste it…

Marianne’s head swam dizzily.  _Focus focus focus_. Keeping one hand wound around Bog’s neck, she let her other hand travel down her body, almost tentative, and soon her fingertips were brushing against the soft thicket of her curls, and  _oh god, **okay**_ , apparently she was even  _more_  ready than she had thought–

Marianne prayed that Bog wouldn’t notice the hot flush that chased along her spine. It wasn’t like she didn’t  _know_  her own body’s responses. Her fingers had nursed and stroked and sated many a long burning smolder, even more so since Bog had come into her life than in her loneliness, her little bud of nerves hot and swollen and aching at the thought of him, all her imagined scenarios and heated recollections. She had always gotten nice and slick with desire then, but  _this_  –

This was nectar gushing from a bud, honey dripping from a comb. It was… _messy_ , and in the midst her blinding arousal, Marianne felt a bit embarrassed. She had no idea what Goblin females were like – even if Bog had no experience with that, that didn’t make it any less intimidating –

 _No more worries, no more being a prisoner of doubt._  Marianne took in a deep, shuddery breath and let her fingers curl through the thatch of hair until they had found that familiar heat, delving into that smooth slickness. And heaven help her, between the touch and curl of her fingers and Bog’s hungry mouth on her breasts and neck and ears, it was so gloriously  _decadent_  –

But…still not what she wanted.  _His touch and his touch alone…_

With great reluctance, Marianne stopped the tease of her fingers and tried to summon up every inch of courage in her lust-addled body. Bog didn’t even notice, too lost to hedonistic exploration. She  _had_  to be brave, she  _had_  to tell him,  _show_  him –

She leaned away, and Bog followed after her before she stroked a hand down one of his cheeks, cradling it to hold him back. “Bog?”

 _“Aye?”_  His voice was the thickest she had ever heard it, and his chest rose and fell as his eyes burned so vividly blue it almost hurt to look at him, he was  _so_  –

Marianne tried to focus, biting her lip as she lifted her other hand to weave her fingers with his, taking in their large, gnarled knuckles and menacingly sharp talons, their thorny texture and size and length. It was like she was seeing them for the first time, hit with the sheer difference and dangerousness of them,  _him_ …

 **_Those_ ** _were going to be touching her, sating her…?_

“Tough Girl?” Bog still sounded ragged, but concern crept into his voice.

Marianne’s heart gave a fierce throb, and she set her jaw.  _Damn straight they were_.

She looked up at him, eyes large and earnest and timid. “Bog, could you…w-would….” she frowned, annoyed that she was tripping over her words so.  _Just say it, just freaking say it._  “Would you, um –"

“Stop?” Bog finished, his voice quiet and his eyes going dark, a despair in them made absolutely awful in how he was doing his damndest to hide it.

 _“No!”_  Marianne gasped, horrified.  _Oh dammit dammit dammit_ , of  _course_  he would assume from that from all her hemming and hawing-!

She fixed him with a bright and ferocious stare, her hands fisting themselves at his shoulders. “Bog,  _please,_  we just went over – I just wanted you to –"

He still leaned away, his eyes still so pained. “Marianne, I swore to ye –"

“You swore to me you’d  _trust_  me,” Marianne said harshly, curling her fists against him. She was beginning to feel very frustrated in  _every_  single way, and if he was going to insist on being a noble idiot without even  _listening_  to her, she felt she was entitled to a little bit of irritation. “ _Stop doubting me, Bog.”_

His eyes blazed at her. “ _Ah’m nae bludy doubtin’ ye, Ah’m jus’ tryn’ ta nae be th’ beast yer whole Kingdom thinks Ah am_  –"

“ _Fuck_  what they think,” Marianne retorted, and before Bog had a chance to snarl back a response, Marianne dragged him into a kiss, the fiercest one she could give.

Her teeth caught at his mouth and her fingers gripped his head so hard she was sure she must be hurting him, scales or not, and when Bog groaned under her, she didn’t know and didn’t care if it was from pleasure or pain. Perhaps he would believe her  _now_ \- actions spoke louder than words, after all, and she  _had_  always been a girl of action.  _I want you, I love you, I trust you, so so so much -_

_And I **will**  have you._

Bog broke away, panting hard and fast but still determined, the blue of his eyes beseeching. “Marianne,  _please._  Ah would  _ne’er_ doubt ye, Ah  _swear_  Ah don’t, but we’ve  _got_  ta be careful, we don’ need yer Kingdom ta get up in arms over – gods, love, jus’ - are ye  _certain_ ye want this? Ah swear Ah won’t be –"

Marianne effectively cut off any more rambling by taking one of Bog’s hands and, shocked and thrilled at her own boldness, pressing it against the part of her that was currently in such a hot, achingly sensitive state she was about to keel over.  _Actions speak louder than words, indeed._

Bog went still as stone. Then a tremor ran through him, and he looked at her with wide eyes, completely staggered. 

 _“In case…there are any more…lingering doubts…”_  She managed to get out, echoing his old words back at him in a barely formed, gasping murmur, her eyes molten.

Obviously struggling to speak – let alone breathe – Bog involuntarily flexed his fingers in a nervous gesture, and Marianne sucked in a ragged gasp as she felt his long, rough fingers against her.  _“Oh-!”_

Bog went to withdraw his hand, nerves coming back in full force, but Marianne simply held him tight, pressing him even closer, her eyes squeezing shut and her brow furrowing at the sensation of his hand rubbing softly against her, and oh hell,  _this_  was just simple contact! She could only imagine what he would unleash upon her senses if he let lustful intent fuel those fingers, purposeful and passionate –

Apprehension was still pouring off of Bog, but there was a sharp new  _something_  in the air, a new heat, and Marianne knew instinctively that he was reacting strongly to such an obvious sign of her arousal whether he was aware of it or not. She canted her hips slightly, and was hard to imagine anything more gratifyingly beautiful than the hiss of surprise and want Bog gave as his palm, large and rough and warm, dragged over her, covering her completely.  

Marianne’s head lolled back, and  _god_ , she had thought her heart had been racing  _before –!_  She had waited for  _him_ , for _this_ ,  ** _for so damn long –_**

_Tell him…_

Marianne breathed in and out raggedly, trying to calm her heart, before opening her eyes to look at him. Her voice was still breathless when she spoke.   _“You…feel that?”_

Bog somehow managed a little jerk of a nod, his eyes huge and fixed on his hand.

Marianne’s hand stroked over it, reassuring yet fierce, holding him tight to her.  _“That’s…that’s all because of you.”_

“ _Nnrgh_ …” The King of the Dark Forest managed to get out, his strangled gurgle perhaps the most flattering thing Marianne had ever heard.

 _“Because –"_  Marianne threw her head back, desperately trying to get out her words when his fingers flexed  _again_ , still wonderfully twitchy,  _“- **you**  do that…to me. So…I want **you** …to touch me.  **Here.”**  _Her eyes flashed as she looked at him, lustrous with desperate desire and fierce love. _“ **Only** you.”_  

Bog  _finally_  glanced up at her, still stunned, and whatever he saw in her face had him swallowing thickly and looking back down. Marianne could see his flush climb up the back of his neck, and his voice was thick and unsure. “ _Ah…Ah don’ know what ta dae_  –“

 _“That’s w-why I’m here. We’re doing t-this together.”_  Marianne’s voice was achingly tender, endless reassurance ringing in it despite her ragged tones. She stroked his cheek lovingly before jerking her chin down at his hand, his claws still barely grazing tender skin.  _“And…w-we’ll be careful…”_

Bog’s wings gave some shivers that Marianne was willing to bet was due to nerves as much as desire, but then he was winding an arm around her waist, pulling her toward him so that her back pressed against his chest. Her wings were a thin, silky barrier between them, doing nothing to stop the lovely scratch of his scales on her spine as he curved his frame a bit to make her more comfortable, the thud of his heartbeat thundering under the plating of his chest and through her. It was echoed by her own rapid pulse, and Marianne inhaled fast and sharp when his other hand dropped down to hold her hip, anchoring her to him.

Meanwhile, the hand that was still cupping her stroked through her curls, tentative and soft, and Marianne let out a tiny little miserable moan of want, her breath hitching and her hips jerking.  _Oooooh, **god** ,_ just the soft track of his claws was absolutely -

His breath was a hot rush by her ear, his voice husky and nervous. “Wha’…wha’ next?”

Marianne wasn’t too sure either, and her dazed state of desire wasn’t making coherent thought all too easy. Still, she managed to stroke the fingers of one hand over where he touched her, lining them up as best as she could as she let her other hand glide up his neck, feeling his pulse jump under her palm. She closed her eyes and gave a faint, tiny gulp, thinking back to all those moments alone, craving him and aching for some sweet roll of relief…

To put it into actual words was a trial she could not even contemplate, and once again Marianne was deeply thankful that they both favored  _show_ more than _tell_.   

She leaned her cheek against him and took a shaky breath as she guided his fingers in a soft stroking curl against her. His claws delved into her soaking, heated flesh, catching slightly, and Marianne immediately bit down on a whimper.  _“Ah! Mmmmph…”_

Bog made a little noise of concern in his throat, and she stroked his neck soothingly, murmuring some soft little mumble of comfort whilst trying to keep her mind at the matter at hand –  _quite_  literally, in this case.

But that was getting increasingly difficult to do, what with the absolutely  _gorgeous_ sensations Bog was eliciting, shimmers of pleasure spreading through her in rapid waves.  _Ohhhh,_  she had always _loved_  his hands, always adored their strange gnarled beauty and clever dexterity and deceptive strength, how they reduced her to a state of melted, boneless bliss as he caressed and teased and worshiped her…

But that had just been with her breasts, which, while sensitive,  _had_   _nothing on this–_

She could feel nervousness in every line of Bog’s body, his touch still hesitant even under her wordless guidance. But he was a fast learner, and had always been endlessly observant when it came to learning all her little signs of pleasure. Marianne made sure to oblige him, an all too easy thing to do, moaning sweet and throaty as he let his fingers grow bolder. His thumb gave a particularly deft caress, and her head lolled back in a rough, heated purr. “Oooh,  _Bog_. Oh,  _baby_ ,  _yessss…”_

Bog’s breath quickened at that, and Marianne grinned into a breathless gasp as he rubbed tentative circles near her nub. He was still a bit clumsy, but  _oh, she didn’t **care**. _ Right now she was positively  _drowning_  in rough skin and the heavy press of palms on her hip and her core, sharp claws playing with her oh-so-gently, carefully learning every new inch of this sensitive flesh. Talons that were wholly capable of rending her apart skimmed softly over her little bud, and her cry was wrenched from her very core, bucking hard against him and biting her lip so fiercely she was sure she was in danger of drawing blood.  _“AHHH -!”_

“Am Ah hurtin’ ye?” Bog rasped, heat and anxiety in his voice.

 _“Nghh_  –  ** _No_** ,” Marianne somehow managed to get out, her breath short and the shudders of her body making her voice quake. “That’s – y-you’re –  _so_ _amazing_ –"

Bog cursed and arched into her at the sound of her blatant rapture, and Marianne moaned loudly at the buck of his hips against her rump. His claws continued to tease at her, only just  _barely_  brushing over her sweet spot, bright and smoldering as a ember, and Marianne was positive a bushfire of pleasure would be unleashed if only his fingers would  _move just a bit closer_  -

It was the most gorgeous form of torture she could have ever conceived of, and she parted her legs to allow more access. She felt her clit give a fierce ache when Bog’s lengthy fingers brushed closer to it, and her whine was thin and loud, her head falling back against his chest.  _“Oh **GOD**  -!”_

Bog bit at her ear, tugging at it, and she let out a mew of pleasure and pain. The feel of his voice rumbled against her spine, her wings, her heart and soul.  _“Are ye certain it’s nae -? Is this – is it truly good fer -?”_

She gave a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “Y-you got to  _ask?”_   _God_ , here she was, practically boneless with please, melting against him, her wings shivering from the sheer onslaught of rapture he was unleashing in her, and he was  _still_  so worried.  _My beautiful idiot._

Marianne nuzzled at him, her ragged voice fathomless with affection.  _“Dork. You’re perfect.”_  

Bog nipped at her ear for that, and she wriggled against him in retaliation, her rump bumping against him in a way she was sure would drive him insane. She was quickly proven correct when Bog let out a snarl of guttural words she was pretty sure were from the Old Tongue of the Dark Forest. Delight at making him lapse into such a gloriously  _weird_  form of dirty-talk lanced through Marianne in a dizzy, delicious spiral, and she laughed breathlessly.

Said laugh caught in her throat when two of Bog’s fingers curled along her painfully sensitive clit, and Marianne’s chest heaved in a sharp, shocked breath, her eyes widening.

Bog growled low and hungry in his throat, and then began to rub tight, hard circles on her bud, his thumb rough and his claw tracing her flesh.

_Holy fucking **hell**._

Marianne’s head thudded so hard against his chest she could have sworn there was a  _crunch_  of exoskeleton, her gasp torn from her.

Apparently he had either clued in on all her moans or he’d been teasing her the whole damn time and had decided to  _hell_ with hesitation. Whatever it was, Marianne didn’t particularly care, as long as he  _never stopped doing this, never ever ever -_

She thrashed in his grasp, and Bog gripped her tight as he continued his merciless, sinfully wonderful ministrations, thumbing and flicking and rubbing, his claws scraping just the littlest bit against her. Marianne swore before arching hard, her wings rustling with the instinct to flare, and she desperately crooked her arm up and around Bog’s neck. He moaned as she pulled him close, tugging him tight so that his chin tucked into the crook of her neck. He latched onto the smooth angle with his greedy mouth, teeth burrowing into her, stinging sharp and sweet.  

She cried out, her voice breaking.  _Oh god,_  was it possible for senses to be destroyed from sheer unadulterated ecstasy? There  _had_  to be an honest to god danger of dying a million wonderful little deaths what with how her heart was racing, her whole being pulled tight and taut with hot rapidly building bliss -

Bog growled around his mouthful, dark and gorgeous. His tongue laved over the tender bite marks he had bestowed upon her – _he totally had a thing for her blood, though he’d never admit it_  – and Marianne shuddered, gritting her teeth so that her wail came out a shredded, jagged thing. It was a good thing they were far away from her Kingdom; her people would have thought there was a murder going on, she was making such a racket -  

_Too good too good too good, not gonna last **not gonna last,**  oh  **god,**  oh  **Bog**   **Bog BOG** –_

Marianne moaned, high and helpless.  _“Bog –"_

He growled wordlessly back, licking the arch of her neck to clean off the blood that welled up, his thumb passing over her clit in a slow, hard drag that had her entire being reeling.

Nonetheless, Marianne attempted to continue on.  _“Baby, w-wait –"_

Bog immediately ceased his caresses, though his breath came in heavy, hot pants.  _“W-Wha’ is it?”_

Marianne wriggled a bit, her throat too raw to reply just then, and he let her go. Without the scaly, strong support of him to hold her up, Marianne sank to the bed, the moss crushing beneath her as her limbs folded, trembling. She dazedly panted, trying to collect her thoughts as they swam about her in a haze of moonlight and desire…

Bog slumped back as well, just as winded, though his wings still thrummed slightly, just as hers were still shivering. He looked at her, concern strong in his eyes even as the glaze of desire rendered the blue hazy. “Dae ye want ta stop?”

Marianne shook her head rapidly, and a faint little pain seared at her collarbone, Bog’s bite still tender, and she absentmindedly noticed that a tiny little trickle of blood had crept down the slope of it. “ _No way._  I – I just –"

She stopped and took in some deep, steadying gulps, once again tasting the sheer muskiness of the air, a perfume borne of heat and sweat and  _something_ , something that had no business being put into mere words. All of it was thick upon her tongue as she breathed in, trying to focus. “I was just – I was getting close and – and I wanna – wanna save it –“

Bog squinted a bit uncertainly but nodded slowly. “Aye, tha’s…fine…”

“And,” Marianne continued on, her voice getting stronger, “like I said earlier, this isn’t just about me. So, while that…” her voice faltered, and she tried again, “that was…”

The words still didn’t come, and she had to exhale, shaking her head dazedly. Taking in her rumpled rapture, Bog gave a shy little grin of pride that sent a fierce swell of affection through her.  _Focus._

Marianne scooted closer, amazed that her arms and legs were working, before letting herself fall against Bog, who easily caught her, holding her close to him. She looked up at him, amber eyes bright with a simmering wickedness as they gazed into curious and tender blue. “So, while that was… _incredible_ …” she murmured, words falling hot and soft from her lips, her hands running up and down his chest softly, and Bog inhaled just the tiniest bit, “…now it’s  _my_  turn.”

Bog quirked a brow at her, briefly nonplussed. “Fer wha’ -?”

His voice abruptly broke as Marianne’s fingers went further along his torso and past his hips, sliding down to stroke at his –

He slumped hard, his breath gusting out of him roughly, and her name was a ragged plea on his lips.  _“Marianne –"_

“I just…I wanted…” Marianne continued, her voice a soft and heated counterpoint to the soft chafing of her palm rubbing between his legs, the sound sending a flush of nervousness and want furling up her back as her fingers continued to drag against him. She went on, her cheeks brilliantly hot. “I wanted…to  _see_  your face for this, to see how I – I wanted to see  _you_ , Bog, I just can’t -”

 _I just can’t get enough of you, how damn perfect you are, seeing what I do to you, oh Bog_  –

She looked down and then away, the sight of her fingers on him in such a manner sending a strange throb of bashfulness and heat through her. She kept talking, her voice a bit high, and she had always been prone to babbling when nervous. “I – I mean, I just sort of  _guessed_ you’d be sensitive, uh,  _there_ – I just, when we’ve – you seem to like it–"

 _“Bludy love it,”_  Bog gasped, his face strained, his eyes clenched closed and his claws hooking hard into the moss, tearing it apart in his grip.

Marianne felt a thrill of relief and pleasure jolt through her, and she smiled against his chest. “Is the spine thing still better?”

“’S good –" Bog gritted out, words torn between clenched fangs. “But –  _argh_ – this –  _hnfff_  – this is –"

He threw his head back as Marianne gave a slight squeeze, mostly out of curiosity. Nothing had  _appeared_  yet, and she wondered what it would _take_ , given how extreme his reaction had been so far and how nothing seemed to be –

Her hand brushed against a bit of skin that his scales didn’t cover, and the unexpected contact made Bog drop like a stone against the moss with a harsh cry, gritting his teeth as he arched against her hand –

Marianne followed, not daring to stop, the sight of him so lost to rapture under her touch was so thoroughly intoxicating, so utterly bewitching. She felt drunk with power, dazed with lust as she watched each heave of his chest, saw the beat of his rapid pulse, his throat hitching and his claws grappling with the moss beneath him, face grimacing fiercely, teeth gnashing, and he was so utterly  _perfect_  in how he was so utterly undone, so damn –

 _“Lovely…”_  Marianne murmured, the word hushed and heated and falling from her lips unawares.   

Bog looked up at her at that, his expression caught between hunger and helplessness, and Marianne bit on her cheek to stop her delighted laughter.  _Hello again, crossed eyes_ –

She purred as she leaned down to kiss him, and Bog nearly bit into her, his claws filthy with dirt and moss as they clutched at her, and Marianne felt herself fall a bit, fumble, and –

There was a brief moment of Marianne not quite knowing what the hell was happening, and then Bog made a noise of such deep rapture she wasn’t sure whether to call it a growl or a groan, and she realized in a flash of searing heat that her leg had become wedged between his, her thigh sliding right against his –

_Oooooh. Oh **god**. Okay, okay okay okay, use this,  **use this**  -_

She shifted slightly, letting it move against him in a slow, delicious rub, and –

Bog grabbed her, catching her wrists, and she curled her fingers around his and looked at him and then –

Then their eyes met -

And it was like her heart had stopped, as if time had stilled in amber even as her blood sang through her in a hot, sweet song. Bog froze as well, still breathing rapidly even as he drank her in, and Marianne knew instinctively, immediately, that he felt the same thing.

_Now. Now now now._

No more sweet teasing, no more slow-building stoking of a fire that already blazed –

**_Now._ **

Marianne’s fingers wove around his, and her eyes burned with words she was too breathless to speak but still meant with all her soul.  _Only if you want to._

Bog’s claws twisted at hers, their hands clasping so tight it was hard to know where one ended and the other began, and his gaze was fierce and tender.  _Always._   

Marianne’s exhale was thready with want and she nodded slightly, her eyes both brilliant and soft as her hand squeezed his.  _Now…_

Neither of them knew exactly  _what_  to do next, so Marianne simply let her actions be dictated by her wants. And oh, what she wanted was to  _feel_  him against her,  _all of her_ , prickles and rough scales against smooth and hot skin – 

She pushed herself up a bit, freeing her leg so that she could straddle him properly. She let out a hiss when all her sensitive spots pressed against his, her breasts sliding against his chest with the motion,  _and **oh** , sweet hell -_

She arched back, head lolling a bit as she gave a pant.  _God,_  she hadn’t been lying to him, she was so damn hot and wet and sensitive the slightest brush would be enough to set her off, even after he had played her to such exquisite rapture. And now that she had her legs wrapped around him shamelessly, it was absolutely  _– oh god oh god **oh god**_  –

Claws caught at her sides, moved down to her thighs, and the look Bog gave her sent a new fire racing through her blood, it was such a potent mix of trust and trepidation and lust. His chest was heaving rapidly and his beautiful eyes reflected what moonlight there was in the room, bright and blue and burning her with the want in them.

Marianne felt an almost miserable throb of love and want pierce her heart.  _Oh god, Bog, you’re so beautiful._

Her heart in her throat, Marianne leaned down and gave him a kiss, long and deep and slow, a reassurance to the both of them – her tongue grazing his and his groan catching in her mouth – before letting her body slide against his, a gentle but still desperate rocking, her hips rolling almost coaxingly.

Her moan caught deep in her throat at the feel of –  _oh god, oh GOD,_  it was almost too much,  _too good,_  the rough and delicious friction of his segments and scales moving against her,  _all of her_  –

He rose to meet her, arching hungrily, panting ragged gasps at each roll, and Marianne found her response was to go  _further_ ,  _faster_ , push  _harder_ , let her body  _grind_  against his like it never had before, demanding and pleading for all he could give,  _please please please_  -

He suddenly rolled her over, and Marianne felt a throbbing lance of glorious heat burn through her as she was pinned to the bed, moss damp and soft and yielding beneath her, and Bog loomed above her, his body curving over hers, looking positively predatory.

Marianne only had a few hazy moments to drink in how magnificently  _fierce_ he was, his fangs bared and his eyes burning with ravenous want, before her head sank back as he continued the rocking, achingly lovely rhythm, snarling almost helplessly with each breath.  _Oh baby, oh god, yes, god I love you, I love you so much, oh **please**  -_

Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth open in a soundless cry, Marianne’s next spasm of pleasure bared her throat. Bog bit at it, tongue and teeth against her, sucking at the skin so hard she knew there would be an absolute monument of a mark tomorrow. The moan she gave seemed pulled from her very soul, and she let her fingers grip at his scalp, greedy and hard, clutching him closer.

She wondered dazedly if he was overwhelmed by his desire, if he would let something primal and fierce and merciless take over, and Marianne felt a twist shock and fear and dark delight when she realized that she wouldn’t mind –

But then –

There was a sudden shifting from him, a deep and fierce groan in the back of his throat, and she heard scales and segments moving, opening –

And she felt something, rigid and warm and slicker than the rest of him, press against her and  _oh my god,_   ** _oh my god,_**  it was happening,  _it was actually happening_  –

Bog froze before rasping out what might have been an oath or a plea, Marianne couldn’t tell, it sounded so –

A deep shudder went through him, and she could hear him,  _feel him_ , struggling to breathe, shaking. Marianne forced her eyes open to look at him, and he looked so  _destroyed_  with want, so  _desperate_  for her and so  _scared_.

Her chest heaving, Marianne let her eyes take him in.

 _All_  of him in.

She breathed in as steadily as she could, her heart thudding hard. She had heard cruel and crude comments from about how… _different_  he would be; muttered speculations from courtiers over whether or not their too-curious-for-her-own-good princess would even  _survive_ being with him.

But…as she drank him in, Marianne found there was no fear. Her eyes may have flashed down for only a few scant heartbeats, and she might have flushed hot, but there was nothing there that she wouldn’t have expected, certainly nothing that would deter her. It was simply Bog, all of him, and she wanted that.

She met his gaze, and the sheer want and helplessness and fear of her rejection in his eyes made her shiver.

“Are…” He managed to get out, licking his lips and swallowing hard, the lean line of his throat working, even as his hips nudged at hers, even as his claws sunk into the moss above her head, “are ye certain -?”

Marianne let her actions speak for her, sliding one hand up his neck as the other dropped to his hips, pressing them down to hers. Bog inhaled hard at that and  _oh god, she could **feel**  it_ –

 _“Please,”_  she murmured, her eyes nearly closed but not wanting to lose sight of him. She wanted nothing to distract her from this moment – she was giving herself to him, surrendering herself, but this was no fight, this was the ultimate trust, this was all that she could ever want, and she wanted it,  _him_  –

His eyes searched her face before he breathed out, shuddery and shallow, and slowly –

-  ** _so achingly slowly,_**   _if she hadn’t known better she could have accused him of teasing her, it was **so**  –_

\- he let himself sink into her, his breath hitching.

It pushed at her, filling her slick, tight warmth, and the length and texture of it pulled at her nerves in an utterly overwhelming way, inch by inch. There was a pinching pressure and Marianne couldn’t breathe,  _she couldn’t breathe_ , it was too much, she was completely –

Bog paused and shook, gasping out a helpless curse before he said her name, so ragged and raw. “ _Marianne_ -"

It didn’t hurt, it really didn’t, she could do this, she  _could_ , she just wasn’t used to it yet –

“Marianne, ye –  _gods_ – please –  _tell me_  –"

 _“I’m –“_  she gasped out, her chest heaving, “I’m fine,  _I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine_ , I just – I never thought –"

**_Oh god._ **

She unthinkingly shifted a bit, trying to ease her ache. That tiny little motion elicited a response that Bog couldn’t hold back, and he rocked into her further, clutching at her hip and gritting his teeth.

Marianne cried out, her body arching, and she couldn’t tell if it was from pleasure or protest. “ _Don’t –"_

He looked up at her, shaking, the blue of his eyes burning. “Don’t?”

Marianne shuddered; overwhelmed by the war of remaining discomfort and boiling want under her skin. “Oh _god,_ don’t –"

Bog made to pull away, and her hips shifted under his, and suddenly a pulse of pleasure thudded through her, and even though it was faint, if  _that_  was only the beginning of what would happen –

She grabbed his shoulders, holding him there. “ _Please don’t stop,”_  she moaned into his ear between gasps, desperately kissing his cheek, trying to soothe whatever fears they both had even as the slight sting in her body was slowly but surely beginning to melt away into something utterly – “ _Trust…me. I want…this_ … ** _you_** …”

Bog gave a little moan at that, miserable want and desperate desire shaking through him, and Marianne stroked up and down his back, soothing him, murmuring comforting nonsense against his brow, a soft press of lips against rough scales.  _It’s okay, it’s okay, this is good and you’re okay, I want you, I want this, baby you’re okay, we can do this–_

She kissed his brow as he shook above her, each little shake and tremor and tremble making her toes curl and her teeth bit into her lip, each slight push and pull stealing her breath away, and she could practically  _feel_  her heartbeat synching up with his –

_He feels so…_

She hesitantly wriggled a bit beneath him, rocking up, and her throat got tight at the sensations that pooled in her, a whimper escaping from her. If their past experiences had made desire and heat blossom within her as surely as the blooms of her Fields,  _then this was a fucking garden_  –

Bog groaned deep in his throat at her soft writhing, his scales rattling, his wings quivering.  _“Marianne – Ah -”_

He tried to ease up a bit, but she happened to shift a bit at the exact moment, and the motion had him cursing and even going deeper into her, his breathing harsh. 

Marianne let out a sharp cry that tapered into a moan of his name.  _“Bog …”_

Their bodies melded together, and each shake of his body was making her hips jerk and roll stutteringly, her body arch up into the curve of his form helplessly. Marianne let herself cling to him, his hide catching at hers, not an inch of skin left between them as she held onto him desperately –

_Hold me tight -_

He kissed her brow, soft and tender and fierce, breath hot and fangs pricking slightly, and Marianne wanted to weep a bit because for a moment it wasn’t terrifyingly new at  _all_ , Bog was Bog no matter what, always making her feel so treasured and protected and so desperately  _loved_  –

_I love you -_

She sat up, wanting her lips on his, whether to kiss them or tug at them or brush hers against them as she whispered that truth to him, Marianne didn’t know, she just  _needed_  him –

Bog moved down at the same moment, inclining his head to hers, eyes intense and lips parting –

And suddenly their faces were close, their noses and lips brushing, the heat of their breaths mixing. Brilliant, hazy hazel gazed into soul-piercing, smoldering blue and Marianne’s heart gave a hard, heady thump.

They were going to do this. There was no going back, and most importantly, no desire to. This was…this was…

This was simply another of their adventures. 

_C’mon, Tough Girl._

Marianne let her eyes sink closed and gave the first true rock of her hips, almost timid.

Bog shivered hard, before responding in kind, his head dropping to her chest as Marianne’s lolled back, and they began to move together, hot skin and scales sliding against each other in a slow-building harmony –

Marianne breath grew short, her fingers gripping at his shoulders, clutching at his scales as Bog began to get a steady, strong rhythm going. Her body was becoming more and more receptive with each roll of his hips, and Marianne gasped as Bog shifted slightly, coming in at a slightly altered angle that had the result of him going more smoothly into her, stronger and swifter than his first attempt, and it was  _utterly_ –

Her hands clenched at him, the fingers of one hand grappling with the scales at his shoulders while the other one fisted at the base of his skull, her eyes rolling up into her head for a few pounding heartbeats.  _Oh GOD_.

She wasn’t alone in her pleasure; Bog’s teeth were bared, a deep-throated, drawn out growl rumbling through the chamber and reverberating through his entire form, and his wings twitched and flared as though too over-stimulated to decide on what to do –

Marianne could feel an almost incandescent heat pouring off of him, searing into her skin as his scales shifted with each roll and stretch of his body, and she wondered dazedly if she would have burns as well as bite marks afterwards –

But it was the sensations that were blooming from where their bodies joined, a gloriously spreading fire of liquid bliss, hot and wild beneath her skin, that had Marianne making such noises that she was positive her throat was gonna be raw tomorrow, certain that at least half the Forest could hear them now - 

She had always adored Bog’s body, endlessly fascinated by the strange beauty of every little bit of his scaly segments, relishing the rough feel of him and the lingering, primrose pink burn on her skin from how his exoskeleton rasped over her flesh -  

But now –

To feel such an intimate part of him  _in_  her, surging through her, _taking_  her to the very edge of pleasure -

It was nothing too alien for her, but it was large enough to demand every bit of her. While not prickly or rough like the rest of him was, the texture of it was… _bumpy,_  almost pebbled. The friction of it, combined with his rhythmic, increasingly desperate thrusting, had Marianne arching and curling, biting at her lip to contain her rapidly growing whimper at the raw, unadulterated pleasure it was eliciting. Nonetheless, a moan still escaped. “ ** _Oh_** _._   _Ohhhhh, B-Bog…”_

“ _Unnngh…”_  was the only response he seemed capable of in that moment, his voice guttural, but she knew he what he was trying to ask.

“Feels so-" an especially deep plunge had her reeling, “ _OHHH! -"_

“Is –  _huff_ – are ye –  _ahhrgh_  – “

The _feel_  of him in her, throbbing and deep and perfect,  _so perfect_  –

 _“So good,”_  she moaned, high and wild and practically incoherent in her bliss, “feels  _s-so_  good, oh  _baby_ , oh p-please Bog,  _please_ –"

He snarled at her frantic pleading, hungry and helpless, and began to move more fiercely, take her more deeply, possessive and wanting and wonderful, claiming her, she was his and he was hers, he was all hers, hers in everyway, she loved him so –

She was making all sorts of noises, bitten-off screams and sighs mixing messy and hot and heartfelt, murmured and gasped against his brow and throat and lips.  _Oh Bog, oh baby, oh yes yes **yes** , oh god yes, just like that baby,  **just like that** , oh god, I  **love**  you, I love you  **so much** , love your hands your mouth your teeth your touch, love  **all**  of you, love all of you on me,  **in** me,  **take**  me,  **love**  me, love me  **raw**  Bog –_

Bog met her cries and mewls with his own growls and moans and purrs, matching her in volume if not in coherency, his broken primal sounds made even more unintelligible by his accent. They had always been noisy when it came to moments of heat and passion, their sparring sessions echoing throughout the castle, loud and unashamed. And now -  

Marianne swore, thrashing a bit as he gripped her hips for another exquisitely deep plunge, her voice raw and damn near close to a sob.  She had had  _no_  idea, no idea at  _all_  – her body aflame with pleasure, hot liquid bliss rolling through her in desperate waves, shuddering and arching at each touch, each sensation, the rhythmic slide of their bodies sending her into a freefall of ecstasy -

\- And Bog was just as lost, claws of one hand twining with her fingers in a vice-like grip while the other wove into her hair, eyes rolling back in pleasure before he closed them, breath harsh and desperate against her mouth when they parted for air before diving back into another searing kiss–

It was scales on sweat-slicked skin, mouths fused together with passion, fangs biting at lips, tongues twining and stroking and taking and tasting in desperate hunger. All were notes that wove into a song just for them, a rapid crescendo of bliss –

_So close so close so close **so close** -_

Something was happening, something so much more than what they had ever done before, what either of them could have dared to dream of. The pleasure was cresting in an intoxicating and wild wave, an unknown, unnamable thing that was something  _wonderful_ , something  _glorious_ , something  _strange_  and  _magical_ –

Bog’s claws carded through her hairy, messy and loving and rough, before scratching down her side, his hand spanning and circling her thin waist. Marianne felt the sting of their path, knew there would be marks, but it only fueled her rapidly building bliss, a feral and glorious grace-note to their song. 

She was burning, and he was too, caught in a fire that they created together, only him, only her, only them, always, she loved him and he loved her and their love would burn away any pain and insecurity and doubt and hurt, blaze powerful and wild and true, bloom for all to see -   

_So CLOSE…!_

Marianne could feel it, the beautiful strange magical thing, her muscles tightening and her body beginning to spasm. She threw her head back in rapturous surrender, her spine curving, her wings spreading beneath her on the moss in all their glory as she cried out to the darkness, to him.  ** _“BOG-!”_**

Bog shuddered into his next thrust, taking her all the way to the hilt, and he was almost gone too, his wings thrumming and his jaw clenching, his whole body shaking above her. His voice was raw as he looked down at her, his eyes burning blue and fathomless with love.  ** _“Marianne -”_**

She curled up to him, furling like one of his ferns, and he met her, and their kiss was desperate and messy, teeth clicking and tongues tasting, full of sweet, dark heat and trust and love,  _endless messy wonderful wild strange beautiful love_  –

Their orgasms crashed over them at the same time, sweeping them both under a wave of molten release, flooding their senses and burning through them in savage, conquering glory, thrusting them both into a world where fires poured beneath their skins, stars exploded behind their eyes, where bliss and trust and love melded together into  _him_ , into  _her_  –

Their bodies curled hard around each other, limbs twining and both sets of wings flaring, and Bog gave a strangled noise that sounded like a roar catching in his throat as he came in her, hard and deep and molten.  

Marianne had thought she would  _scream_ , wail, her pleasure loud and undeniable and triumphant, her throat raw from ecstasy -

She hadn’t expected her very breath to be stolen from her, her pleasure so vast it rendered her silent, her mind reeling and her very soul shaking in the wake of such -

Her mouth gasped as she curved back in his arms, lips trembling, limbs limp and heavy, bliss soaking into each inch of her.  _Oh…oh, **god** …_

Her chest heaved and she quaked in his arms, the tremors of her release still shaking her to her core and making her slump back onto the moss. They had _…_ oh _, god, **they had done it** , finally _had done it, given themselves to each other  _entirely_ …

Oh god,  _she loved him_ , she loved him  _so damn much_ , he had been  _so amazing, oh **Bog**_ …

_Bog…_

She opened dazed eyes, tried desperately to catch her breath as she looked up at him, hazel hazy as she blinked, taking him in.

He was taking shuddery, heaving breaths, positively  _shaking_  above her, as if his own pleasure had wrung him dry of any control. His back bowed and his arms shook as he braced himself above her, clearly trying not to collapse on her, his head hanging low as it brushed against her chest…

He took another shaky breath and then looked at her, and the sight of her seemed to undo him all over again, his breath gusting out of him and his arms buckling a bit. Marianne ran her hands up them, stroking soft and slow at his shoulders before petting his cheek. He leaned into it, his expression somewhere between exhaustion and adoration, his eyes half-closed, a sated smolder to the bright blue instead of blazing want.  

Marianne immediately tugged him to her, shifting so that he could settle on her more comfortably. Bog let himself be taken, spreading heavily over her, and laid his head on her sweat-slicked chest with a rough, rattling sigh that seemed to come from his very being. Marianne stroked tender fingers at his brow, her own eyes feeling incredibly heavy, her heart incredibly full.  

_They had actually did it._

And it had been  _nothing_ like she imagined, nothing at all like what her girlish heart had dreamed up before her heartbreak, what her body had burned for during all that time alone, nothing like anything she could have possibly conceived, could have dreamed…

She had rejected such imaginings when she had declared she was done with Love. Sex was just another lie told in its name, another chain to bind one down. Her body might have been frustrated, but her heart, broken and scarred-up as it was, had held firm.

Besides, one couldn’t miss what one had never had. Roland had never gotten that far, though he had made some cajoling attempts. But Marianne, in all her romantic, starry-eyed naïveté, had wanted to wait, wanted to keep it  _special_.  _Thank heavens…_

After she had gotten shattered and wiser, she was determined to not let any more delusions root into her heart, and pining for imagined scenarios was  _not_  something she needed to waste time on…

Bog nuzzled against her, interrupting her thoughts, possibly sensing her remembered pain. Sheer fatigue had already made his eyes close, and his claws scratched gently at her as sleep claimed him.

Marianne looked down at him, and her lips quirked in a soft, one-sided grin.

 _Imagined_  scenarios…guess she really  _didn’t_  need those anymore.

Her smile slid into a sleepy smirk. But planning for future ones,  _that_ would be fun…

Her smirk fell into soft lines and her eyes got pensive as she continued to stroke at Bog’s brow, making him growl softly in contentment. She  _had_ always wanted her first time to be special, nursed that hope…

Once upon a time, she thought it would be absolutely  _perfect_ , giving herself to Roland and letting his handsomeness sweep her away into a daze of delight.

And now…

She glanced down at Bog, and her eyes, sleepy as they were, grew incredibly tender, bright with gratitude.

It  _had_  been special. Not  _perfect_  at all, but even better.

It had been  _real_.

Because it had been with  _him._

Marianne sighed, soft and heartfelt, and twined her arms more fully around Bog and nestling back into the moss. Her eyes sank closed as she hugged him close, the line of his cheekbone prodding into a breast, and it drowsily crossed Marianne’s mind that only a few inches of bone and skin and sinew was what separated him from her heart…

Marianne’s smile at that stayed on her lips even as vines of exhausted contentment twined her further into sleep, and Bog’s body was a comforting weight upon her as she gave herself over to slumber, her heart thudding beneath him in a soft, primal lullaby…

* * *

Darkness still reigned in the bedchamber when Bog woke, blearily blinking in the dim shadows. It was still late, the sky still dark and the moon still burning silver, though he could feel in his scales that dawn was only a few hours away.

His body crackled as he stretched hard, his scales shifting, and he scrubbed a tired claw over his face. Gods, but he  _ached._  In the most  _intoxicating_ , mind-numbingly  _wonderful_  way he could have ever dreamed of, echoes of pleasure still rolling through him…

Bog gave a soft exhale of laughter, a faint grin tugging at his lips. The burn of a spar had  _nothing_  on this.

He gave another stretch, growling softly before looking around, a faint grimace of confusion on his face. What had woken him…?

His eyes fell on the window, still open, and he let out a soft snort. The night air was far from freezing, but a certain coolness borne of the evening was most assuredly coming in. He had been too concerned with Marianne’s earlier grief to close it, and then after that…

Bog smirked. After that, he had been  _far_  too busy with  _other_  pressing matters, ones with dark eyes that burned gold and wicked, ones that had stained sweet lips and endlessly hungry mouths and clever, knowing hands…

But now, he was awake. And he was cold, his bedding in no shape to aid him.

Bog sighed and grunted as he got up from the bed, his legs protesting as he made his way over to the window. Kings had always been saddled with unpleasant duties, and leaving a warm bed on a cool night was apparently one of them…

He had just finished tugging at the latches when something caught his eyes, drawn by a soft sliver of moonlight that had managed to find its way into the room…

The bud Marianne had brought with her last night lay on the window’s ledge. It was no longer closed tight, but had opened completely, the dark petals blossoming and soaking up every bit of the night, rich and velvety and silvery under the glow of the moon, spreading under the glory of it, its perfume wrapping around his senses. Blooming in darkness, it was a rare and beautiful thing.

Bog closed his eyes and inhaled, inexplicably overwhelmed. He opened them to look over at the bed, the moss of which was completely torn and shredded. It would need to be replaced…

Curled in the midst of such wreckage, one tattered blanket covering her body, lay Marianne, her lashes fanning across flushed cheeks, her still swollen lips parted gently, her breathing deep and even.

Bathed in the shadows as she was, the glow of the moonlight painted her naked limbs with a soft luminescence, wings spread out to shimmer softly in the dim light, legs furled out from under the moss, one slender hand tucked under her chin. Her hair was in complete disarray, grime from the torn moss and sweat still on every inch of her, his marks purplish and stark against her skin.

She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature Bog had ever saw.

She looked so  _peaceful_  as she slept, so achingly  _perfect_  nestled in his bed, that he tried not to wake her as he approached, footsteps slow and soft.

But she suddenly stirred, giving a sleepy little murmur before opening her eyes in a slow squint and looking at him.

They each stared, silently drinking in the sight of the other. Bog gazed into the warm depths of her eyes, golden as amber in the moonlight, and felt his heart twist in his chest in an almost wistful disbelief. He still couldn’t believe she had given herself to him so  _willingly_ , her heart and body and soul all offered with such trust…

Should he say something? What  _could_  be said after such a thing?

Then -

Marianne suddenly smiled softly, her face lighting up with such tender happiness it made Bog’s heart ache for another reason entirely. If he hadn’t known better, he could have sworn she had been dusted by the Love Potion….

Lifting herself up on one elbow, she reached out a hand to him, her eyes warm with sleep and affection.

Bog clasped it, their fingers entwining, and let himself be tugged gently down to her. Their faces brushed softly, savoring the feel of each other, the gentle and sacred intimacy of the moment…

Bog realized that nothing  _had_  to be said, no words needed. Everything that mattered had already been spoken between them in a language that went beyond either of their kingdoms, beyond Forest or Field, one of heart and body, heat and longing and need and love…

He breathed her in, the soft dampness of her hair making her scent even more potent, and she softly drew her hands along his shoulders, fingers gliding over his scaly roughness before clasping together and cradling his head, drawing him to her gently.

Their kiss was soft and exploring, tender trust rather than fierce hunger, and when they gently broke away Bog gave a deep sigh and laid his head on her chest. Leaning back against the bed with him once more, Marianne kissed and stroked his brow, the silence between them full of things unspoken but instinctively understood.

Everything had changed; there was no coming back from what had taken place. After this night, they were never going to be the same again.

As Bog curled his body around hers and Marianne nuzzled into his embrace, his exoskeleton catching at her skin in its familiar bite, sated exhaustion claiming them both, hearts beating as one, both knew with every inch of their souls…

They wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been one wild, emotional ride, guys. Thanks for staying with me for so long, and here’s to hoping that we’ll continue this adventure together. All my "lofe" to you!


End file.
